


The Koi and the Sparrow

by spicedrobot



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Bodily Fluids, Cloaca, Frottage, M/M, Master/Pet, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mutual Pining, Pining, Sex with Sentient Animals, Sirens, Teratophilia, Voyeurism, Young Genji Shimada, genji's fucking dense, i guess just in case, lots of em - Freeform, minor background pairings hinted including doomyatta meiyatta and moiyatta but unrealized, minor background threesome, siren zenyatta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 14:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14059251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicedrobot/pseuds/spicedrobot
Summary: He looks nothing like the rest. There is no flowing hair, only a shaved head and tawny skin, a bioluminescent grid of teal pulsing above soft, nearly closed eyes. His plain robe exposes only a sliver of throat, lacking loose pearls or bits of bright shell that sirens appear to covet. Beneath, his tail is a splash of shimmering orange and white scales, with delicate, slender fins that flutter in the tank’s current.“This one.” Genji says.





	The Koi and the Sparrow

****None of them catch his eye.

Swathed in sheer fabrics that flow with mountains of gilded hair, each siren is a painting in motion. Full lips, heart-shaped cheeks, strong jaws, muscled bodies. There is a darling for every taste, but not for one that has tasted plenty without having to pay for it.

Genji trails behind his father, trying to appear interested. His health, which had taken a downturn in recent months, had improved enough for this occasion, so the less than dutiful second son plays obedient for once.

“Is there any that you like?” The seller asks, clasping one hand over the other.

Genji doesn’t want a pet, one more Shimada task that would clog up his day. Maybe he could just have the servants care for it. He casts his eye towards the tanks, each individually stocked. For their safety, the seller had said. Sirens can be aggressive, depending on the breed.

An associate enters the room and whispers in the seller’s ear.

“Already? Bring it in.”

“Well, Genji?” His father asks, leaning on his cane. It used to be for show, but his knuckles whiten the longer he stands.

Genji swallows his sigh. He turns back to the wall behind him, reviewing the stock while the associate pushes a hoverlift with a tank into the room.

The creature inside locks Genji’s roving gaze.

He looks nothing like the rest. There is no flowing hair, only a shaved head and tawny skin, a bioluminescent grid of teal pulsing above soft, nearly closed eyes. His plain robe exposes only a sliver of throat, lacking loose pearls or bits of bright shell that sirens appear to covet. Beneath, his tail is a splash of shimmering orange and white scales with delicate, slender fins that flutter in the tank’s current.

“This one.” Genji says.

The seller balks.

“Forgive me, but it is not for sale. Its hair will take many months to grow in, and it has yet to be properly de-voiced or trained.”

“A ginrin kohaku. You have your mother’s taste.” Sojiro says.

He levels his gaze as the seller gapes like a koi himself. Then he bows several times.

“Of course. I will prepare the paperwork immediately.” The man departs in a hurry.

Genji takes a few slow steps forward. He does not preen and pose like the others, but he does notice his approach, angling toward Genji as he reaches the tank.

He cannot tell the color of his eyes, only guessing it matches the others, some vivid hue surrounded by black sclera.

Genji places his hand on the tank.

The siren _smiles_ , no close-lipped, docile expression but one with rows of sharp-tipped teeth. A shiver coils down Genji’s spine. The siren’s hand, with translucent white webbing between each finger, aligns with his.

“He likes you.” His father says from behind him.

“You think so?”

“It’s the green hair.”

The siren looks between father and son while they laugh.

* * *

Zenyatta settles well into his new home. Genji’s mother had been a collector, but his father had sold her sirens when she passed. The large tank built into her untouched wing of the estate requires only a few updates, and after Zenyatta has a large space to explore to his heart’s content. Genji moves into his mother’s old room with his father’s blessing.

_She would be happy you enjoy the same hobby._

Hanzo is decidedly not, had told him so with a pinched face, embittered as usual. His brother hated everything he did, why not give him one more reason? Better to use the space instead of letting it rot.

Genji stocks the tank with coral and smooth stone, treasures and fish that are safe for consumption, though Zenyatta rarely hunts, content to watch them swim and flit around the same way Genji watches Zenyatta. One wall makes up a fraction of his tank, the rest of it underground, leading to a circular opening surrounded by tile and hydrophobic carpet.  

That is where he finds Zenyatta more often than not, poking his head just out of the water until Genji notices him. Then the siren smiles, chirps soft and melodic, even out of water. The room neutralizes hypnotic frequencies, but Genji rarely keeps that function online, especially when it muffles the soothing trills of his pet.

Zenyatta is smart. Frighteningly so. He stays quiet when Genji sleeps, knows his name and seems to understand much of what Genji says. He retrieves objects based on color and size, can say Genji’s name, though it’s hard to form the words, vocal cords not meant for human speech.

He is happy to see him when he returns home, plucks treats from Genji’s hand with his claws carefully arranged, afraid, maybe, to hurt him.

Today is such an occurrence; Genji has bits of leftover sashimi from dinner. Zenyatta slides out to sit, robe flattening to his body as his tail splashes the surface of the water.

“Genji.” He purrs.

“I have something for you.”

Zenyatta never holds out his hand until Genji does. He places one morsel in his upturned palm, and Zenyatta sniffs once before bringing it to his mouth, chewing as his expression brightens.

“You like it?”

He nods, leaning forward, water beading down his throat as he stares at Genji with heavy-lidded eyes.

Genji swallows, then he holds out another slice, pulling back when Zenyatta offers his hand. The siren tilts his head, watching Genji as the human reddens.

He nearly squashes the salmon in his fist when Zenyatta tips his chin and parts his lips, watching Genji as his pink tongue flattens over his lower teeth.

_Pet. He’s a pet._

Genji places the morsel on his tongue. The tips of his fingers glance along its soft expanse, slicker than a human’s, butter-soft. Zenyatta’s mouth catches around a finger when he draws back, not even a ghost of teeth felt as the siren swallows, a soft song of laughter burning Genji’s ears.

* * *

Genji doesn’t feed Zenyatta by hand again, though he cannot forget that tongue, those teeth, secret glimpses of amber beneath lashes.

He goes out a few nights later and brings home two companions, young and pretty. Even softened with alcohol, he can’t help but feel cornered when he enters his room, a partner on each hip.

They are too drunk to notice the glow of the tank, too wrapped in their giggles and warm, teasing touches. They fall onto the bed in a gaggle of limbs, laughter and grunting ringing in the quiet.

Amidst their hands and lips sliding over his body, Genji drags his eyes to the tank along the wall.

Zenyatta stares. With both hands planted against the glass, eyes wide and black, ringed in the blinding color of dreams, mouth pursed on a silent, curious note.

Genji groans, and it’s the soft lips wrapping around his cock that urge his hips upward, the questing fingers between his legs and not the knowing, eager gaze of his pet fixated on him from a few feet away, his lovers none the wiser.

* * *

Zenyatta stops leaving the water, even when Genji keeps the hatch open. The treats he sets next to the opening are untouched when he returns each day.

The siren still greets him when Genji enters the room, watching him always, hands and body against the glass. The strange flush spreading from his cheeks down his throat, however, is new.

“Is something wrong?” Genji asks.

Zenyatta only smiles and shakes his head, flushing brighter.

* * *

He asks his father about it at lunch the next day. Sojiro looks much older than he did a few weeks ago, but he smirks at the question.

“It is early, but not out of the ordinary.” Sojiro says, sipping his tea.

“Early for what?”

“I can have someone reach out to one of your mother’s old friends. They may still have a collection.”

Genji breathes out of his nose.

“Your fish is in heat. Must he spell it out for you?” Hanzo murmurs before taking a minute bite of food.

“Oh.”

Genji’s heart pounds against his ribs for the duration of the meal.

* * *

They are lucky to snag a few suitable mates so early in the season.

They seperate Zenyatta’s tank with a fiberglass net, a necessary precaution. First meetings could end in three ways, Itou-san, his mother’s contact, had said, and bloodshed is the easiest to avoid.

The first mate is small and soft, with short, chestnut hair and so many curves that Genji isn’t sure where to look. Her tail is furred and spotted, made for surviving frozen waters. They draw close quickly, sniffing and chirping, speaking, Genji realizes, at a level humans can only imagine. There is no connection beyond friendliness, and so a new siren is brought in the next day.

This one is lean, long and hungry-looking, its fin steel gray and shark-like with fiery hair. One of its arms is strung with purple cord and spiked nails. His reaction is immediate, Zenyatta baring his fangs while the other’s heterochromatic eyes flash. Familiar awe prickles Genji’s neck at the sight.

The third day they strip Zenyatta of his robe. Itou thinks it could dissuade potential mates, especially when Zenyatta is beginning to show. Genji’s never seen his pet naked before, thin but strong, his gills lined with fluttery, translucent webbing along his ribs.

The light reflects every minute ripple of his scales, obfuscating his body, but he finally spots it. A few inches below the median point of his hips is a small slit, a flash of pink hidden between orange and white.

Genji stares at the tantalizing sliver as the container opens to let the next siren inside.

Zenyatta snaps towards the other creature, and Genji’s sure it’s a repeat of the last encounter, quick and hostile.

Instead, Zenyatta swims closer. The space between the fiberglass is too large for hands to fit, but when Zenyatta places one upon the net, the other matches his hand to his.

Genji doesn’t notice his hands tightened into fists until nails bite into his palm.

He is bigger than the others, dark-skinned and shaven. His tail is powerful and wide, tan and smooth, interlaced with stripes of white. Zenyatta chirps once, and the other smiles, all teeth and deviance, staring down the expanse of his pet’s body.

Genji follows his gaze to Zenyatta’s slit, wider now, viscous slick clinging to its insides, and at its apex something begins to emerge. Zenyatta’s cock, as soft and rosy as the rest of him. He glances sidelong at the other human in the room, hoping his flush isn’t obvious.

“It seems to be going well. Not many turn Akande down.” She says, her smirk tightening the crow’s feet around her painted eyes.

Zenyatta rolls his hips, a minute shift that puts his stomach against the netting. Akande lowers his hand, grazing it against the steadily plumping cock and the gape beneath. A muffled trill escapes his pet.

“We can remove the net now.” She says, withdrawing a cigarette from her clutch and taking a drag.

“Are you sure? What if they attack each other?”

“This isn’t my first session, young master.” She moves towards the tank interface. “Your mother was also nervous her first time. ”

He steps up to the glass and fights the urge to...to do what?

Zenyatta needs this.

“Ready?”

There’s a flurry of movement, then angry, low clicking. Akande strains at the nets, his body answering Zenyatta’s, but his pet retreats, swollen and presented, refusing to look anywhere but the pebbled floor.

Akande does not quiet, his song louder, more insistent, his cock straining and dragging against the ropes, reaching for him. Zenyatta curls in on himself, and Genji aches, has never seen Zenyatta make himself so small before, his palm pressed hard against his slit. Itou clicks her tongue.

“This behavior is beyond peculiar. He is receptive…” She exhales with a cloud of vapor, the smell of sake and honeysuckle cloying. “But it is not something to force. We will just have to keep trying.”

By her tone she’d rather do anything else. “He is so very hard to calm when he’s stirred. Poor darling.”

It takes several minutes of cooing and coaxing to get Akande back in the container. His calm bravado crumples into hurt, a final, sorrowful note sung as the latch closes. Zenyatta swims out of sight before Genji can get his attention.

He could give chase, track Zenyatta down in the lower corridors. Nowhere is the tank truly private. Instead, he escorts Itou to her car, unwilling to examine the knot of emotions tightening his chest.

* * *

Genji sits through dinner without eating a bite. Hanzo glares at him, but it’s Sojiro who speaks first.

“Do not worry so much about your pet. Itou-san will find a suitable mate.”

“If only you would show as much concern for your actual duties.” Hanzo says, even as their father _tsks_.

Genji can’t find the anger to respond.

* * *

He goes out that night, but not even booze or company soothes him. A friend whispers in his ear and tugs him close, but Genji shifts out of his grasp and stumbles home.

He’s nearly sober when he trains his eyes on his feet and enters his room. If Zenyatta is not there to greet him, he doesn’t want to see it. He slumps towards his bed, kicking off his shoes and stripping to his boxers in a few clumsy tugs.

Orange flashes at the edge of his vision. Genji snaps his head up.

Only a passing fish, startled away by his quick movement. Genji swears under his breath, runs his hands over his face.

A splash.

Then.

“Genji.”

He whips around, nearly falling in his haste.  Zenyatta peers at him from the hatch, only his eyes above water.

The steps between his bed and his pet feel like an eternity, crippled by the fear that Zenyatta will disappear with the smallest wayward motion.

“Zenyatta.” He can’t keep the smile off his face. “Hey.”

His pet surfaces a bit farther, just enough for Genji to see his smile as he reaches the hatch.

Then the world’s upside down. Genji falls with a shout, bracing for an impact that never comes. His savior’s tail is soft and slippery, shifting him to the giving tile.

Zenyatta’s bright markings replace the dim ceiling lights, and Genji blinks into a face darkened like wine, rich and heady.

There’s that smile again, a bit smaller, more hesitant as Zenyatta flattens his tail over Genji’s thighs. He tries to move. Pinned. He’s pinned. All the air in his lungs leaves in a rush.

“Zen…?”

Warm fingers clasp Genji’s wrist. A quiet click, strange without the echo of the water. Zenyatta leads his hand along the too-slick planes of his body, skin fading into the faintly rougher texture of scale.

Genji starts at the heat of him, the spongy, tapered cock spilling copiously against his fingers. Zenyatta hums, eyes fluttering shut, the slightest cant of his hips shifting his cock into his palm. Genji cannot tear his eyes away from his full lips opened on a silent gasp or the freckles lost in the flush along his cheeks.

He cups his hand around the strange, giving cock, body answering when Zenyatta trills. His pet presses his weight into him, eyes finding his, smiling shakily. For the first time since Zenyatta’s heat emerged, it feels right. Right to be pinned beneath him, coveted with barely restrained hunger.

Genji flips his wrist, works the channel of his fist around him, his slick coating everything, slimier than pre and slippier by far. Made for the water, he thinks dizzily. Would Zenyatta drag him below and use him? He bites his own whimper back, crazed, unsure if he would even resist, not when his pet cranes forward and scents beneath his ear, lips descending on his pounding pulsepoint.

“Genji.” He whispers, claws tracing along his abdomen, and Genji can’t help himself, shakes and moans at the barest pressure.

It would take nothing for those same claws to tear him to ribbons, but he trusts, _trusts_ him, so kind, perfect, his.

His. His. _His_.

Zenyatta doesn’t even tear his clothes, only cups the emerging line of Genji’s cock through his boxers, a questioning chirp rumbled into his skin. He strokes Zenyatta faster, breath coming in pathetic gulps, slick _plipp_ ing onto Genji, his pet’s desire dirtying his thigh.

The quiet humming intensifies, a long, sinuous note that vibrates in Zenyatta’s chest. A claw catches the edge of the fabric, tugging his boxers down, his cock slapping audibly against his stomach.

Zenyatta pulls back, looking between their bodies. Genji has a moment of hesitance.

Zenyatta does not.

He shifts up, bumping their cocks together, a sweltering hot press that makes Genji’s eyes roll back, one hand cupping Zenyatta’s neck as he drags their lower bodies together. Their rutting is small, strange, movement limited out of water, but Genji cannot bring himself to protest, not when Zenyatta’s cock jerks against his, led by his half-thrusts, nudging just beneath his cockhead, his slit beneath coating him, dragging hot and dampening everywhere his cock doesn’t reach.

He moans his pet’s name, previously displaced fingers wiggling between them, glancing against the impossibly soft clutch beneath. Hotter here, like a furnace, sucking at his fingers though the angle is wrong to press more than just inside. How it would clench and squeeze around his cock has him shaking, fucking against Zenyatta in sharp snaps of his hips.

Zenyatta’s gills shudder, chest heaving as he mouths Genji’s name in those strange tones, clicks and chirps, tiny, unknown pleas, and Genji answers with words of his own, sweet praise, his name a prayer on his lips. His hand slips up to clutch around their cocks, a loose channel, the sounds and slide of bodies startling in the quiet.

When Zenyatta comes he seizes, voice lost on a high, unperceivable note that steals his breath and rips Genji’s end from him, ropes of hot cum mixing with the slippery seed of his pet, diluting the teal into a strange, opaque cream.

Zenyatta slides off of him, half-panting, half-chirping as the aftershocks work their way through. He dips his tail in the water, wetting his lower body, before his eyes settle on Genji, dark and curious. He’s almost turned when Zenyatta grasps him by his hips again, settling him on his side, the space between their lips narrow and humid. Genji hisses softly as Zenyatta rolls his hips, a wet, slippery drag that blurs his vision.

Amber eyes meet chartreuse. Genji brushes their lips together.

“Genji.” Zenyatta breathes against his mouth.

He does it again, chaste, softer than he’s kissed anyone in years, rocking their bodies together, a slow, easy slide as he recovers from an orgasm that’s left him razed and weak.

Zenyatta returns it, mimicking the motion, startling only slightly when he gasps and Genji runs his tongue against his, wet and supple. A brush with sharp teeth fattens his cock in an embarrassing rush. His pet is sloppy, but sweet, a quick learner even in this.

Nearly hard again, he leans back, watching as he presses his fingers to the base of his cock and angles it just beneath Zenyatta’s, kissing the slit that parts for him with the gentlest insistence. Zenyatta titters, hips jumping, claiming the first inch of Genji’s cock in a single push, and that’s all it takes to break the uncertainty. Their coupling is slow, a gentle rocking into a place that can’t quite take him all of him, but it doesn’t matter, not with Zenyatta’s hands all over his body, his lips mapping whatever part of Genji they can reach. Each thrust forces a gentle squish of slick from that small, swollen opening, a breathless chirp following in its wake, igniting pleasure along Genji’s spine.

His second orgasm surprises him, so intense it steals his thoughts. He gasps raggedly into Zenyatta’s neck, cum dribbling around his cock still half-buried as his insides clench and milk Genji through every last shudder. Zenyatta coos, palms pressed into Genji’s back, claws gentle divots in his skin, careful, even in his heat.

It’s only then that Zenyatta slides lower with a parting kiss to Genji’s lips, nudging his cock beneath his balls, a confused note filling the air.

“M-more…?” Genji whispers.

Zenyatta nods, his hands replacing his cock in his exploration, brightening when he finds something warm and deep to press into, pleased with his discovery.

A bit ungainly and mostly dry from the air, Zenyatta slides back into the water. Genji reaches for him, a tired worry tightening his chest, but Zenyatta reaches in return, easing Genji into the tank with gentle hands on his thighs.

His pet is slow, patient, nudging his cock against him, teasing and slicking his hole until the tip wiggles in, breaching him in a gentle thrust. Instinct or knowledge leads his motions now, smooth and sinful, the gentle, uncomfortable pressure fading until there’s only a pleasant, needy ache between his legs, Genji’s cock half-hard even now, caught between the gentle friction of their stomachs.

No one’s taken him like this, nothing ever rocking inside him so soft and malleable but insistent, eager. Zenyatta kisses his lips and throat as he keeps Genji pinned against the tank’s edge, shoulders above the surface but the rest in the warm heat of the water. Genji’s heard of it before, but never experienced it so acutely himself, the sensation of safety, of care given unconditionally. Genji returns each kiss with a sloppy, giddy slowness, arms wrapped behind Zenyatta’s neck, letting his pet have all of him.

As slow and constant as the tide, he feels Zenyatta come, flooding his insides as the barest brush of teeth find his neck, Genji whimpering through his own, dry, a ghost of the ones before. He collapses into his pet, but Zenyatta doesn’t let him sink.

He kisses him, soft, gentle pecks, humming and clicking deep in his chest.

“You like those, huh?”

Zenyatta nods, kissing the tired, satisfied smile on Genji’s lips, holding him until the world blurs and there’s only the warmth of Zenyatta and the wet, rhythmic sound of lapping water.

* * *

Genji awakens to a sore body and the sleeping face of Zenyatta next to him, his head bundled in his arms while the rest of him disappears into the water.

He watches Zenyatta for a while, the even rise and fall of his chest, the twitch of his eyes beneath his lids, gently dreaming.

Genji gets up to do two things.

He calls a servant to cancel Itou’s visit. Then he drags a blanket over to the side of the hatch and settles next to his pet, threading their fingers together before letting exhaustion take him.


End file.
